The Red String Of Fate
by PrairieJane
Summary: Santana, remember in high school when Mrs. Albom told us about the red string of fate? The string that connects people who are meant to be together? I forget who originally said it, because as soon as she started to tell the story, I knew it was told for you and I.


Santana, remember in high school when Mrs. Albom told us about the red string of fate? The string that connects people who are meant to be together? I forget who originally said it, because as soon as she started to tell the story, I knew it was told for you and I. I closed my eyes and thought about it. The teacher probably thought I was falling asleep, but I wasn't. I was thinking. I was imagining the red string, imagining it wrapped around the first knuckle on my right pinky finger. It belongs there, because that's where your pinky usually belongs as well.

She said that the red string string can't break. It can tangle, and stretch and bend , but it can't break. That's what it must be like for us, Santana. I know our string can't break.

I imagine that when we were younger our string was short. Maybe it stretched from one side of the monkey bars to the other on the playground at school. Maybe even across town when we were at our own homes, but never much further than that. I don't think it was tangled much then either. Maybe when you told Tina she was ugly. I never liked when you got mean. The string meant we always sat together at lunch and always shared our fruit snacks and never made fun of each other.

It wasn't until middle school, when we were thirteen maybe, that I think the bends and twists and knots started to happen. Maybe it started with small things. When you decided that Quinn was our best friend too, a small twist happened in my heart, and in the string. You told me that you wanted to date a boy that was in our math class. That felt like you were sneaking around a corner to hide part of yourself from me; a little tangle and bend.

Once we started high school, I could see where the string started to tangle in different places. More tangles around your pinky and hand than around mine. My end of the string still led straight to you.

I was never sure why you wanted to date Puck. When I imagine you two together, all I see is the string tangled and knotted around both of you. I'm sure he's got a string too, but it doesn't lead to you. Even though you didn't know about the string, you knew you didn't belong with him. I don't know if you knew your string would lead to me though. Sometimes you miss things like that, Santana.

During Glee club was the one time that our string seemed short and untangled. Maybe it would get tangled around other people there every once in a while, but that usually didn't last long. Only once did our string ever stretch far apart in Glee.

When I was dating Artie I started to see how our string got tangled. Suddenly I felt like I had to tug on the string a little to help you know that I was still there. When I tugged too hard though, you pulled even further away. I think the string was pulled taut then. Like I was being pulled in too many directions at once.

One time when I pulled, you didn't pull away. You followed the thread back to me. By the time you got there the string between us was so tangled. You pulled our string hardest then. I almost thought it would break, but it didn't.

When I think about Junior prom, all I can see is our string wrapped and tangled around everyone there. Everyone got in the way that time. Even though things were weird, when you ran out of the gymnasium, I couldn't help but be pulled after you. I believed in you. I still do.

I guess during senior year I began working through the knots. You were working on them too, but I liked to help. Talking about feelings was something you'd hated before, but then it seemed to be just what you needed. I helped to unwrap the strings from this boy, or that. The ones that made you feel sad, or guilty, or wrong. I worked harder to slacken and undo the knots made by people who said you weren't good enough. Coach Sylvester. Finn Hudson. Rachel, Quinn, Azimo... all tiny knots that I worked on over the year.

I was so proud of everything you worked on during senior year. Having you support me, and sing to me, in front of everyone made me feel like our string was visible to everyone. It seemed like everyone could feel our awesome love. We went to Senior Prom together, and even though we weren't officially nominated as prom royalty, you shined so bright. You were absolutely the queen. When New Directions won nationals you were so proud. When we got back to the school you kissed me in the hallway it seemed like all the knots were finally untangled. Senior year ended for you, and we spent summer together, but I worried about what would happen once we had to stretch our string hundreds of miles.

When you went to Kentucky and I was back in Lima I thought the string might have actually broken. I dated Sam. You pulled away, hard, but I couldn't come after you. When you went to New York and I heard you were dating someone I wondered whether our strings had ever been truly connected. Maybe there was a different string for "just friends." Maybe a string could be pulled so hard, and so far, that it could slip off.

And then something magical happened. I felt like we were connected by a rubber band, rather than a string. Just when it seemed like we couldn't get any farther apart, we snapped back together. Suddenly our string seemed almost as short as it had when we were kids.

We had some great adventures over the next year, and when we returned to help resuscitate the Glee Club's barely beating heart, you surprised me. I knew our string was strong now, and I wasn't worried about drifting apart, but I know you Santana. You want to see something solid. Something that would show everyone that we belonged together. When you proposed, there was no question in my mind. I slipped the ring onto my finger, and it felt like it was putting a beautiful decoration on our fate string.

There's still some tangles. I think there has to be. I know our string will never be straight and short like it was when we were little. Your Abuela is one knot that I'm not sure I can help undo. I try. Maybe it will get easier as time goes on, but it's pulled so tight that I'm not sure. Sometimes people still make the string tangle a bit. Guys on the street who don't know what they are talking about, who say mean things about me or you, or us. Girls who give us dirty looks. Maybe they're jealous. Maybe because they don't know whose finger their string is tied to.

As I think about our wedding, and the rest of the adventures I know we will have during our lifetime together, I can always see one thing clearly. It won't matter what obstacles we face, Santana. We don't have to worry about the string breaking, or slipping, because it is anchored there now. We've always been connected, Santana, first by our string, and now by our rings.

Maybe some people don't believe in the red string of fate. They say that it's silly or too romantic or naive. Maybe some people don't believe, but if you'd asked me years ago if I thought the story was true, my words would be the same as they were at the altar: I do.


End file.
